


The Hound of Andraste

by Testanon



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Dogs, Don't worry the dog lives, Dragon Age: Inquisition Spoilers, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Mary Scooby Doo, Silly, Trespasser compliant, Whatever happened to the rogue ranger specialization, Whippet good, animal sidekicks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-24 02:14:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30065091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Testanon/pseuds/Testanon
Summary: You know what the Dalish say to their dogs? "Take the Dread Wolf by the ear if he comes."
Relationships: Female Inquisitor/Solas (Dragon Age), Female Lavellan/Solas (Dragon Age), Hawke's Mabari/Original Dog Character (unrequited), Lavellan & Solas (Dragon Age), Solas & Original Dog Character
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Solas finds a dog.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One morning my partner told our whippet that "he better eat his breakfast or the Dread Wolf Fen'Harel would eat it for him." It occurred to me that a Dalish coursing hound might not necessarily react to Solas the same way that a Mabari would, and this story was born.
> 
> "dhar'irothal" - literally "very fast dog, racing dog"

Solas found the dog half-covered in rubble and screaming like a dying rabbit near the forward camp. He raised his staff, preparing to put the wretched creature out of its misery. Based on the gut-wrenching noises emanating from it, it was doubtless mortally wounded. He had no intention of allowing it to suffer longer than necessary.

The mage began to prepare his spell, considering how to end the poor creature's life as quickly and painlessly as possible. He was not a monster, after all. The dog quieted, hung its head and accepted its fate as he raised his staff and channeled power into it.

"NO! Wait. STOP," cried a woman picking her way towards him through the debris. "The prisoner is awake. She refuses to answer our questions until her companion is found. Alive."

"I am pleased to hear it! Wait, her...companion?" Solas slowly lowered his staff. The dog immediately began screaming again, with increasingly shrill emphasis.

Solas rubbed a temple as he turned towards Cassandra.

The Seeker spoke louder, raising her voice to be heard above the hound's protestations. "Yes. This is almost certainly the Dalish women's courser. He matches the description she provided. We need to free him."

Solas raised an eyebrow. "And if its wounds are beyond mortal aid?"

"She is _most_ insistent," emphasized the Seeker.

"Very well." Solas slung his staff on his back, kneeled and began clearing away rubble. While he had managed to keep the Anchor from killing the woman as she slept, it had been a close call. He hadn't been certain that she would survive, and was relieved to hear she had regained consciousness.

He was equally relieved when the dog blessedly shut up, seeming to comprehend that they were making an attempt to liberate it.

It soon became clear that the animal was entirely uninjured, albeit soaking wet and covered in mud. An overturned pitcher and a sizable puddle of water occupied the space in which the dog had been trapped. It was plausible that the dog's unremitting, impressively vociferous complaints were entirely attributable to being wet. Solas fought the urge to roll his eyes.

Now freed, the dog danced enthusiastically and rubbed itself against the mage's leggings, smearing mud on them in an expression of gratitude before vigorously shaking off, wet fur flying. It trotted away several paces and began sniffing around in a wide circle in an effort to locate a trail....only to be intercepted by Cassandra, who deftly threw a leather lead around its neck.

The dog turned its head and stared at the Seeker, altogether dumbfounded by this sudden change in fortune. This woman was clearly not to be trusted.

It turned its gaze towards Solas and tilted its head slightly, soliciting a second opinion.

Solas shook his head, sighed and frowned at his mud-caked trousers. This was not how things were supposed to happen.

* * *

The chances that anyone besides the Dalish woman had survived the...whatever it was that had gone wrong with Corypheus...seemed increasingly slim.

Unfortunately for Solas, the woman bearing his mark was presently out of his reach. She was being held and interrogated by the Left and Right Hands of the recently late Divine. Solas doubted they would learn much of value from their questioning. The woman was no mage; she likely lacked a frame of reference for anything involving the Fade. He would be surprised if she remembered anything at all.

At any rate, Solas was relieved that the sudden appearance of an elven apostate did not appear to be on the Chantry's list of most pressing concerns. Occupied as they were with their prisoner, Cassandra and Leilana were not in a position to outright refuse his offer of assistance, magical or otherwise.

Scratching his chin, Solas considered whether he had not been specific enough about the particulars of his skill-set. After the Seeker had demonstrated to her captive that the dog had been recovered alive and unharmed, he had somehow ended up in temporary custody of the animal. The dog had sniffed him warily before flopping down in the dirt outside his hut with a loud sigh.

Solas frowned at the leash in his hand. The world had changed drastically while he slept. Like the People, the animals of Elvhenan had been vastly diminished by his erection of the Veil. While they had never been immortal, he had been horrified to learn that most of their lifespans had been reduced to a mere two decades at best. Andruil would not be pleased to learn what he had inadvertently done to her prized hunting hounds. (With any luck, she would never have the chance to find out.)

As perverted as Dalish history had become in the past few millennia, they had managed to get one thing right: neither the dhar'irothal nor the halla would ever require _tethers_. Unlike some of Ghilan'nain's more distasteful work, she had created both creatures to be companions, not slaves.

As soon as the two women were out of sight, he removed the lead from the dog's neck. "That will not be necessary," he informed his charge, slipping the leash into a pocket.

"HaROOF," the dog agreed solemnly, flopping over to lay on its side. It sighed again dramatically and settled in for a nap.

Passing by, Varric raised an eyebrow. "Really, Chuckles? What if he tries to run off?"

"Where, good dwarf, do you expect him to go?" wondered Solas. The dog was already snoring softly.

"Fair point."

* * *

They take the mountain path to the Temple.

"No one told me there would be ladders," said Lavellan. She frowned at Cassandra and glanced at her dog, who was beginning to shiver from the cold.

"I don't suppose anyone has a rope," said the dwarf. "Or a levitation spell."

Solas shook his head.

"We should have left him in Haven. We do not have time for this," declared Cassandra. With no small amount of protest from the animal, she picked it up and slung it over a shoulder before commencing her climb.

Three ladders later, Cassandra placed the dog down. It wedged itself firmly between Lavellan's legs and glared daggers at the Seeker.

"Would you prefer to have been left behind?" asked Lavellan, looking down and scratching behind an ear.

The dog huffed.

* * *

"DON'T TOUCH THAT!" yelled Varric. "That stuff is dangerous as fuck!"

The dog paused mid-sniff, turned sideways and lifted a leg on the red lyrium deposit. Varric thought he couldn't be more disturbed by red lyrium than he already was, but it _sizzled_ in response. The dog leapt backwards, startled.

By some miracle, they managed to stabilize the Breach without major casualties. Cassandra carried the unconscious Lavellan back to Haven, the dog whining softly and padding close behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is partly based on True Stories about our whippet, who is 40 lbs of muscle and would be around knee high on Solas at the withers. Thus not a tiny dog, but not big enough to be terribly useful in an actual fight.
> 
> I have the ending of this story written already, but I'm still working on some of the parts in-between 🙂


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the dog spots a Wolf.

The dog wasn't _blind_. He knew at first sniff that the man before him was the Dread Wolf. If tales were to be believed, Fen'Harel was a Very Bad Dog. But the man had rescued him from a cold bath (a fate unimaginably worse than death) and helped reunite him with his lady.

At present, the man even appeared to be trying to get his lady to wake up. While still wary, the dog strongly approved of this course of action. Tucked quietly underneath the bed where his lady lay unconscious, he decided to do his best to give Fen'Harel the benefit of the doubt.

After all, he hadn't been the one to insist on putting him on a leash like some uncivilized shem dog. This was a large point in the Dread Wolf's favor, he considered, even when weighed against his entire knowledge of Dalish folklore. Besides, he reasoned, he wasn't sure he'd be able to take the Dread Wolf by the ear if he tried. The man was rather tall.

In any case, as far as the hound was concerned, his lady was the kindest, smartest and most powerful being he had ever known. If the Dread Wolf tried anything foolish, the dog was certain that his lady would put a stop to it right away.

Assuming she ever woke up, that was. He really hoped she would.

The hound poked his pointy head out just enough to watch the wolf-who-was-currently-a-man carefully examine his lady's hand. Solas noticed the movement and looked down at the dog. The little head quickly retreated from whence it came.

A loud gurgling noise suddenly emanated from under the bed.

Solas frowned and looked about the small cabin. He realized with a start that the animal's care had likely been overlooked in the chaos of arriving back at Haven with the unconscious Herald. He put Lavellan's hand down gently, stood up and left.

A few minutes later, twin bowls of water and stew appeared underneath the bed.

The dog greatly approved.

* * *

When his lady awoke the next morning, she didn't seem to have a problem with Fen'Harel's presence, so the dog decided that he didn't either. Besides, the man had brought him people food for dinner, so how evil could be really be?

From the sound of it, he was going to help her and her other new friends fix the big hole in the sky. It was certainly a little weird that the Wolf was undercover as a hobo apostate. However, the dog knew it wasn't his business to question the workings of a god.

When Solas glanced at the hound in the middle of recounting some of his "ancient visions in the Fade," the dog gave him a big wink. His secrets would remain safe with him.

"Herald, is there perhaps something troubling your companion's eye?" said Solas, peering down at him with concern.

The dog winked harder.

"I regret that I possess limited experience with canine anatomy and physiology, but can examine him if you wish."

The dog sneezed at the obvious falsehood. Limited experience, indeed.

Lavellan shrugged, turning her gaze from Solas down to the courser. "He seems fine to me, but thanks for the offer. I'll let you know if I notice anything amiss."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Solas is long-suffering.

"Falon," Lavellan admonished.

Solas looked up from his book, slightly startled by both the interruption and stern disapproval in the Herald's tone of voice. He was also somewhat surprised at the familiarity the word implied; they had not been traveling together for long.

Ah, she was addressing her tiresome hound. He was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that his grand plan to save the People had somehow become contingent on a Dalish woman with a dog. A dog she insisted on bringing with her _everywhere_.

While acquainted with the phrase "when in Ferelden," this was really stretching it, even for the Hinterlands. The saving grace was that the Herald's companion wasn't a mabari; that surely would have complicated matters. They were far too intelligent for their own good.

He had met his first shortly after awakening from uthenera. It had not been a pleasant encounter for either of them, and he had made every effort to avoid the Ferelden hounds thereafter. He suspected they could somehow sense he was a wolf. The gentler and clearly less intelligent dhar'irothal were far less likely to pose problems.

The courser huffed softly at its lady and pushed its bowl of nug meat around in the dirt with his nose. Lavellan rolled her eyes and tried a new tactic. "You have to eat your breakfast, bud, or the Dread Wolf Fen'Harel will steal it."

The dog glanced up at Solas dubiously and picked up its bowl. It slunk away to the opposite side of the campsite.

Solas blinked.

"What's gotten into him?" asked Lavellan, scratching her head.

Solas shrugged.

"I have never been skilled at prying secrets from dogs," said the Dread Wolf Fen'Harel.

* * *

The courser was as fast as lightning and as brave as the Hero of Ferelden's fabled Dog. Unfortunately, it was also kind of an idiot.

It did not take thousand of years of life experience to know the obvious: the dhar'irothal had not been bred for fighting, but rather swiftness and grace. Though smaller and shorter-lived now than in the days of Arlathan, they had retained a speed and constitution best suited to chasing down hares. Occasionally they might assist with tracking a gut-shot ungulate, but only in good weather.

Their skin was paper-thin and subject to tearing at the smallest insult. Their jaws were not meant for firmly gripping and tearing at the limbs of enemies.

Beloved as the Herald's hound was, the simple and incontrovertible fact was that it was not built for battle.

Not that that stopped it from trying.

The dog was constantly getting scraped up or pulling a shoulder. On one occasion, it had a terribly unfortunate encounter with a jar of bees. Nevertheless, the Herald wouldn't hear of leaving her hound in Haven.

While things had improved somewhat since he began including the animal in his barriers, Solas was rapidly tiring of having to constantly stop and patch the creature up.

The Dread Wolf let out a sigh and channeled a small amount of healing magic into the dog, closing up a cut on its flank. As always, it spun joyfully in circles for a moment and attempted to jump up and lick his face. Solas gently pushed the animal away.

If this was what it took to defeat Corypheus and restore the People, so be it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the dog makes friends, but not with Cullen.

They wouldn't let him fight any more bears, which was _extremely_ unfair as far as the dog was concerned. He was so much faster than them! And how else was he supposed to practice his flanking manuevers??

Between his lady, the Dread Wolf, Bianca and the cranky shem with the giant sword, it's not like he had been in any _real_ danger. There were only three bears; they hadn't even been outnumbered! He found the amount of yelling afterwards to be quite excessive.

He considered that his lady might actually be serious about the matter when she threatened to tie him up with the horses.

* * *

"There has to be a better way to do this," declared Lavellan. "There won't be any elfroot left in Ferelden by the time we're done filling these requisitions. We can't just keep digging up every one we see to check if it's mature; we'll drive it to extinction at the rate we're harvesting it."

"Maybe Skinny can sniff them out like a truffle dog. You know, they used to have this incredible Orlesian restaurant back in Kirkwall..."

"Varric, you're brilliant."

"I know," he smirked.

Cassandra looked skeptical. "Are you certain..."

"Yeah, so, I actually get that a lot," Lavellan said.

"Perhaps this sort of task would be better suited to..."

"'You can't train a gazehound,' et cetera, et cetera. But have they actually bothered to _try_? Have they _asked nicely_?"

"But coursers are..."

"It's not blood magic, Cassandra. Humans think our Dalish hounds aren't as smart as their Mabari," she explained, "because they'll write off anything with long, pointy ears. Our dogs aren't as good for guarding or fighting, but they're just as trainable as any other."

The Dread Wolf looked conflicted, but said nothing.

His lady presented him with a hunk of ripe elfroot and said, "Go find."

He would show them. He would find it. He would find all of it, because he was a very good boy.

* * *

Life was pretty good, overall. The big shem with the curly hair finally stopped trying to pat him forcefully on top of his head ("But dogs love me," the man had pouted as he craned his long neck away from the hand and stepped back politely.)

The rest of his lady's advisors gave up on trying to keep him out of the Chantry. A folded sheepskin quietly appeared on the cold, stone floor in a corner of the War Room. Two more mysteriously turned up in the tavern and a corner of Fen'Harel's hut. The latter was especially convenient as his lady liked to visit and chat with the wolf, or sometimes just quietly read with him.

Some of the shems were all right, the dog decided. The spymaster slipped him treats whenever his lady wasn't looking, and she hadn't caught on yet. ("So thin! Does she ever feed you?") The potion guy was ecstatic when he saw the results of all his diggy digs, and his new friend Krem quickly declared him an honorary Charger. ("We'll make a war dog of you yet," promised the Iron Bull as they wrestled.)

At Josephine's quiet suggestion, Harritt fashioned him a simple leather harness with a handle on top "in case of emergency." His lady fastened a number of pouches onto it, allowing him to carry his very own length of climbing rope, extra potions for the group, and a spare set of tools that were definitely not for stealing things. (She would _never._ )

The next time they went into the field, his lady warned him very seriously to "make good choices."


End file.
